


Labelling Spree

by teacup_of_doom



Series: Scenes from an Alternate Galaxy [14]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Amused Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Claims Things, Ben Kenobi - Freeform, Clones, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Female Obi-Wan Kenobi, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu Needs a Holiday, Possessive Anakin Skywalker, fem!Obi-Wan Kenobi - Freeform, halls of healing, mentions of Qui-Gon, sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacup_of_doom/pseuds/teacup_of_doom
Summary: Anakin goes out for his birthday. Shenanigans ensue, and it is determined that the twice-born Son of Suns should not be allowed near labelling materials. Obi-Wan deals with the amusing consequences the next morning, and beyond.





	Labelling Spree

**Author's Note:**

> This little scene takes place after the Reveal (TM) of Anakin and Obi-Wan's past lives - which hasn't been posted yet. If you want to chat or say hello - find me at timesandteacups on tumblr.

 

* * *

 

  
Perhaps because she knew that Anakin, like herself, was an adult trapped in a much younger body (and oh, there were perks to that – less creaky knees to start with), she allowed Anakin more freedom in this lifetime than she had in the last. This time, a few days after what they privately called his “rebirth-day”, Ben had seen her newly (once more) Coruscant-legal padawan and some of his friends (as well as Nenni and Shashi) off on what would inevitably be a lengthy bar crawl before deciding that turning in for the night was a better option for herself. She and Anakin had had a much quieter celebration between themselves on the actual date. Ben expected that Anakin would be back in his bed when she woke up, as he didn’t enjoy large crowds either.

So when she awoke the next morning to find clear evidence that Anakin had been back to their room at some point, but had subsequently disappeared, she was mildly (completely) concerned.

On the other hand, Anakin’s absence was to a certain extent a blessing, because Anakin’s usual hangover complaints were usually endless no matter which life they were living. In her grogginess – in her defence, she had not yet had tea – Ben could be forgiven for not noticing that something was amiss until she looked in the ‘fresher mirror and noticed the words written in black in on her exposed collarbone. They read (legible even though backwards) ‘this is mine’.

After staring at the words for a few moments, Ben discovered that her right palm also bore the words, as did the edge of her robe. Anakin’s toothbrush had been given the same treatment, as had – somehow – his towel.

Now much more alert, Ben cautiously walked into the common area, took in the scene, and groaned.  _ Everything _ was covered in black ink in some form. From the screen of one of Anakin’s padds, to the blue pot on the kitchen stove – even the box of tea that was humorously labelled ‘this is Ben’s’. A neat circle had also been drawn around one of Qui-Gon’s succulents, and an arrow pointed to the sandy earth within the plant. The sand had  been labelled ‘this is nobody’s. Sand is a Sith’. In addition to the chaos, a half-eaten pastry that lay on the kitchen counter had somehow been labelled as Shashi’s .

Ben decided that she needed to be cleaner to deal with this, and a shower was required before facing the common area again. Sadly, while she tried to get the ink off her skin in the shower, it would not slough off no matter how hard she scrubbed. Wearing a higher collar than normal and feeling like she was a teenaged padawan hiding a hickey, and after a mercifully unlabelled mug of tea, Ben set out to find her padawan. She could sense that he was in the Temple at least, and still somewhat inebriated.

Within half an hour of leaving her rooms, Ben wished that she hadn’t. Somehow Anakin and his friends had managed to cover at the very least a full quarter of the Temple. True, the scrawl was sparse or non-existent in some places, but  _ still _ . And the script was almost always a claim of someone’s. Anakin’s was easily the most identifiable, though thankfully it was not his handwriting that marked the backside of a statue of a famous warrior from an earlier age with some...highly inappropriate suggestions. 

There were other Jedi wandering the Halls as well, some examining the various places that had been labelled. Some were laughing, and others were clearly annoyed by what were clearly padawan hooliganism. Ben considered visiting the Archives to see if Anakin had fallen asleep there, but the sense of outraged screeching in the Force made her veer off, afraid of Jocasta Nu’s wrath, which she would likely have to deal with later at any rate. Word had clearly gotten out as to who had perpetrated this insanity because some of the glares and whispers that Ben was being treated to made the hair on the back of her neck rise – and caused her to tweak the collar around her neck higher because she suddenly felt like the fabric was see-through. Not wanting to be treated to any more searching looks, Ben took a less travelled route to the Healing Halls. 

Master Healer Vokara Che, Head Healer of the Jedi Order, greeted Ben herself at the door with a smile that immediately pricked Ben’s sense of caution. “I was wondering when you’d turn up, Master Kenobi.”

“That does not bode well.” Ben told her drily, only to receive an even more amused look. 

“Why don’t you come and see what your lovely Padawan has done?” Vokara suggested, and led Obi-Wan into the Halls, towards the section where the beds for inpatients were located. Ben spotted the problem almost immediately once they were in a section that the healers had curtained off. “Oh Force,” Ben moaned.

One of the cots had been labelled ‘Anakin Skywalker’. 

“To be honest,” Vokara told her, hands on her hips and surveying the damage. “He is here often enough that he deserves his own bed.”

“Yes.” Ben agreed, face in her hands. “But why is it shackled to that other bed labelled ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi’?”

“Apparently” Vokara said, attempting and failing to keep a straight face. “You two are not allowed to be separated if you both end up in the Halls of Healing.” 

Ben made a noise that could have been frustration. Anakin still had separation anxiety, especially when she was injured. “Where did he go from here?” she managed. 

“I’m not quite certain,” Vokara told her. “But I’d ask the sentinels.”

“Why?”

“I believe they were the ones who loaned him the cuffs.”

* * *

The sentinels, who were apparently notorious gossips because when she found one they knew exactly where Ben should go - directed Ben to one of the hangar bays that Ben and Anakin had used frequently in the clone wars. Anakin supposedly had fallen asleep under the wing of a ship that was under repairs, some time between marking half the droids and battle-worthy ships in the hanger as 'his' and  _ drawing her on the front of a ship* _ . He’d been there at least twenty minutes, one of the lay mechanics told her, curled up in a ball on top of one of the tarps, and the next time someone had looked, Anakin had gone. 

Because of course he had. 

The mechanics swore that they would scour off the drawing that Anakin had done on a star fighter of Ben in her robes, but Ben couldn’t believe it. She had her memories of the Clone Troopers to fall back on. Goodness knew that her image had been bandied about the Holonet enough. She was still in the hangar bay, watching while bemused mechanics tried to figure out why Anakin had labelled certain ships over others, when Ben’s comm buzzed.

“Kenobi here.” 

“Knight Kenobi.” Mace responded. “Your presence is needed in the Council chambers please.” 

Ben frowned. “An emergency session?” she asked. “Anakin and I are not yet due for another mission.”

“Oh, it is an emergency session of a kind.” Mace said, sounding strangled. “We need you to come up here and retrieve something.” He sounded vague, but Ben suddenly knew exactly what he meant. 

When she arrived in the High Council Tower, Mace was standing in the open doorway of the Council Chamber, and Ben could see several of the Masters sitting serenely inside, discussing something quietly. However, Ben’s chief concern was that Mace was not alone in the doorway. He was holding upright a half asleep and still somewhat drunk Anakin, who was happily leaning on the Master and humming happily - something he’d never do to Mace if he was not in a state of inebriation.  

“I believe this is yours.” Mace told her dryly when she approached, indicating Anakin. The words ‘This is Not’ were written over Mace’s right shoulder, but no other words appeared. Anakin clearly had not been able to finish his labelling of the Master of Vaapad. 

Ben put a hand over her mouth to stop the mad chuckle that threatened to escape. “Oh sweet Force,” she managed to breathe after composing herself. She heard Yoda cackle from his place inside the Council Chamber - which meant that they were listening to the exchange intently. Of course they were. 

“He was already in here when we arrived, and seemed extremely pleased to see us.” Mace explained. “Force knows how he got in.” 

Ben knew exactly how her favourite miscreant had gotten in, but didn’t say so.

“He was labelling the council chairs by who supposedly sat in them,” Mace told her with an expression that could have dried up the oceans of Naboo. “And then moved onto labelling us.”

Ben closed her eyes and couldn’t quite find words to describe the mix of horror and laughter that she felt bubbling within her chest. 

“Interestingly,” Mace kept talking, sounding very much like the cat that ate the canary, “Padawan Skywalker’s labelling wasn’t reflective of the current holders of the Council seats.”

Ben made certain to keep the best Sabacc face she could muster. “Wasn’t it?”

“No,” Mace said, eyeing her. “Yaddle wants a word, Knight Kenobi.”

_ Blast _ . Ben thought, but kept up the air of someone who has only taken note of a coincidence.

“Or should I call you Councillor Kenobi?” Mace asked, clearly referring the possibility of her future - or past Council position. 

Ben smiled. “I haven’t had that honour, Mace,” she said, lying through her teeth. Technically, she had been on the Council – just not in this lifetime. "Yet."

Mace raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. Ben opened her arms. “Come here Anakin,” she said, addressing her Padawan. 

Anakin, who’d been near to dozing, looked at his Master through bleary eyes. He smiled at her with the bliss of someone who was drunk on both liquor and insomnia,  as if it was the first time he’d seen her in years, then let go of Mace and all but draped himself – deadweight – around Ben’s shoulders. Ben’s knees buckled, but held. “Hello my heart.” She said into Anakin’s hair – he’d almost immediately buried his face in her tabards. 

“ _ Ben _ ,” Anakin whined, rubbing his nose against the fabric. “They took my pen.” He complained. 

“Thank goodness someone did,” Ben replied, and then tried to hoist him so that he was standing straighter. “Come on young one, let’s get you home, and then you can sleep off the rest of this.” She looked to Mace, and thanked him for calling her. 

“We’ll be having a chat later,’ Mace called after them, “about the seats”. 

“Blast.” Ben murmured aloud this time, and hoped that Mace would forget about it – though it was extremely unlikely. Yaddle probably wouldn't either. Anakin whined again, and tried to bury himself in her robes as he’d done when he was a child. “None of that, Anakin,” she told him. “Home.”   
  


* * *

When Anakin awoke in his bed, it was to what felt like possibly the worst hangover he’d had in two lives. (It probably wasn’t, but it was the feeling that counted.) The light from the hallway was practically blinding, and after he’d slammed his eyes shut again, Anakin felt out with the Force – he didn’t quite trust whatever light there might be around not to blind him temporarily. When he summoned the effort to literally roll out of the bed and stumble into the common room, he could feel Obi-Wan on the couch, reading. 

“Well good afternoon.” Obi-Wan greeted him, without looking up from her padd. Anakin flinched. Her voice was  _ definitely  _ louder than it should have been. 

In lieu of a verbal reply, Anakin moved towards the couch and flopped unceremoniously onto it, miraculously avoiding Obi-Wan’s padd, in order to lay his head on her lap, his face turned towards her knees. He mumbled something incoherently, and then tried to stuff his robe sleeves into his ears.

He could feel Obi-Wan chuckling from the way her legs shook. “I’d ask how your evening was, but I have evidence that suggests it was at least somewhat enjoyable.”

Anakin moaned. 

“What do you remember, Padawan mine? Enquiring minds want to know.”

“Drinks.” Anakin managed through a mouth that felt like sandpaper (because of  _ course _ it had to be sand). “Lotsa drinks.”

“Oh, that I do not doubt.” Obi-Wan told him. She probably hadn’t even looked up from her padd. “What else did you do last night?” from her tone, she probably already knew, but wanted him to remember. 

Anakin thought – it was harder at the moment than it should have been – and wrinkled his nose. “I think there was a bakery?” he said.

“That certainly explains the half-eaten pastry on the counter.” Obi-Wan replied drily. “What else?”

Anakin wrinkled his nose. Thinking was somehow a little harder than it normally was. “I dunno?” His mind caught up with Obi-Wan’s words, and he rolled over to ‘look’ at Obi-Wan. “Evidence?” he asked, half worried, and cracked an eye open. Ben, amused, was looking down at him, and he realized that instead of her normal under tunic, Obi-Wan was wearing a simple tank-top. This was so rare and unusual that Anakin risked opening his other eye. She pulled down the edge of her tanktop to show him her collarbone. Anakin blearily read the words written on Obi-Wan in his handwriting, and then shrugged. “Accurate,” he grinned. 

Obi-Wan rolled her eyes and pushed him off the couch. Anakin simply made a raspberry noise and crawled back into her lap – which made Obi-Wan go into rare peals of laughter – and curled as much as he could into her. Obi-Wan covered her mouth with one hand and petted his hair with the other. “I am not the only thing you labelled, my heart.”

Anakin made an inquisitive noise into the fabric of her tanktop. 

“Well, you labelled Mace, for a start. Or rather, tried to.” 

Anakin’s screech of disbelief into her stomach sent her into peals of laughter again. “And at least a quarter of the Temple,” Obi-Wan continued, clearly enjoying his horror. “But it’s the Council Chamber and, well, the Council itself, that made the biggest impact.”

“The Council?” Anakin asked. “I labelled – no, don’t tell me how or why I did that.” Anakin closed his eyes. It was better than admitting the real world existed. “I am never drinking again,” he swore. 

“You say that,” Ben retorted. “But we know better.”

“You can’t talk,” Anakin complained, curling into her stomach again. “You have an iron liver.” 

“Supposedly.” Obi-Wan agreed. “Also, because of you, Mace now knows that I took Yaddle’s seat. She wants to talk to me later.”

Anakin moaned a few curses in Huttese, and then realised that there was something written on his forearm. “If lost, return to Obi-Wan Kenobi”. He looked up to Obi-Wan and glared. Obi-Wan simply smiled at him over the top of her tea mug. 

* * *

Years later, after a particularly successful campaign, Rex knocked on the open door to General Kenobi’s quarters on the Valiant. “Captain! Come in, what can I do for you?” She asked, before looking up from the reports she’d been reviewing. When she did, she ended up covering the smile that grew on her face with a hand. Rex, whose helmet was off, had a look of long suffering on his face. On the left side of his chest plate was written “this is mine”, signed by General Anakin Skywalker. 

Obi-Wan laughed before she could stop herself. 

“Most of us don’t actually mind.” Rex said mildly, fighting more successfully the amusement he felt. “It feels like a badge of honor, and a claiming. But General Skywalker should probably be stopped before he falls asleep while writing on someone’s beskar’gam**.”

“I’ll be right there, and someone should probably hide the pens.” Obi-Wan told him jokingly - but she did grab a holo recorder before following Rex to the mess.     
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> * Inspired by the tumblr post where the clones put a pin-up of Padme on a ship - and Obi-Wan is on another. I can’t find the post. If anyone can, I’d be super happy if someone sent it my way!   
> **Mandalorian armor


End file.
